My Vanborghini Gallardo.

  The boys, Sylvie, and I spent the long weekend visiting my parents.  We just got back yesterday afternoon.  Actually, I served as the only adult on a five hour road trip with all three kids, so forgive me if my thoughts don’t flow well – I’m still recovering.  I got out of the van at the end of the trip, opened the side door, and found that sometime during the five hours Sylvia’s arm was mysteriously colored a nice shade of red. But Jae didn’t do it, and neither did Zee, just ask them.  {Obviously my daughter has a profound ability to use a marker, and her dexterity is off the charts.}  There was also magic disappearing ink all over my back seat.  Here’s to hoping the folks in China weren’t joking when they made that label.  I’m also fairly sure that someone (obviously not Jae or Zee) spilled milk all over in the back – it’s beginning to smell like a baking sippy cup in there.  My poor vanborghini.  Ahhhh – so now, 5 hours, a bottle of disappearing ink, a container of milk, one very large tattoo on Sylvia’s arm, and a combined total of 150 minutes of earned time spent in respective rooms later (oh, and somewhere in there I had to explain what a tampon is) – we are home. 

 

Things always go really well when we’re out of town.  Very little yelling, very little cussing (except for the choice words they decided to introduce my nephew, Simon, to.), very little smarting off.  Which is a blessing, cause who wants to be stuck home with kids in their rooms while you’re out of town?  Not me.  It also tells me that they are capable of being respectful and listening when they want to.

However, as I said before, we are back home.  And it’s completely obvious.

Jae is grounded this morning.  We only ground when they use any kind of physical force to get what they want.  We have to keep a tight reign on anything physical because we have Sylvia.  He also lost his privilege to play in his baseball game last night.  He then spent said baseball game sitting behind Brian and I on the bleachers mumbling threats and disrespectful comments about us.  Everything was a battle all day.

Having said all of that, I do really feel like we’ve made a little progress with the boys.  They’ve adjusted to our discipline techniques, we’ve adjusted to their needs in discipline.  They are always aware of what choice they are making with any bad decision they make.  They are able to tell us why things are not ok.  I’ve even gotten a few unprompted ‘sorry’s’.  It’s just such slow progress, that sometimes in the middle of the day when I’m being yelled at for the 200,293’d time it’s hard to see. 

 

Baby steps.  And according to the caseworker we’ve got plenty of time to work on things.  Time we have.  I’m just not sure how much longer my van is going to hold up.  Ha!